Too Late and Still Waiting
by The-Music-of-hands
Summary: But, there’s nothing I can do, it’s too late to say sorry when I was the one who actually ended it. I’m just waiting for this song to end, waiting for something.


Disclaimer: I don't own, never will, and never have.

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_A/N_

_Well... This one-shot is pretty much self explanatory. Some of it is actually kind of true. I just needed to vent some things, let go of some words, and well...this was born. Stories are created of feelings. And, this is me, right now. Sorry for the stupid blurt... I just... I don't know. I regret too many things._

_Well, have a great read._

_The-Music-of-hands_

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Too Late, and Still Waiting.

I was never the really romantic type, or for that matter, ditzy, cute, and an altogether a Mary Sue. I was never really the boyish type either, I wasn't gruff, tough, and I absolutely wasn't a bully. I guess that even though I liked to play pretend that I was beautiful, and tough… I guess I really never was. I guess I was just kind of…myself. Like a combination pizza, or…something along those sorts of lines. I'm not saying I _want _to be myself, I'm just saying I am.

I'd like to think that I am unique, an exotic rarity that you have to search for, but truth be told, I'm not. I'm just a girl, just me, just Anna Harvey. And, right now as I'm driving down this unpaved street, I'm wondering, what did you ever see in me? It's kind of funny, how I never really believed opposites actually did attract, it was the same for our siblings, and, it was the same for us. I know that I wasn't terrible romantic, and, well to put it boldly, neither was our relationship. I remember, sometimes, you pissed me off to no end with your damn emotion drama crap, but, I know—for a fact—that on equal occasions you wanted to strangle me for my obstinate cheerfulness.

We loved each other, and we disliked each other, it always depended on the moment, and the thing I loved most about us, was that neither of us tolerated things. That's probably why we fought, but we would always make up. Maybe catch a late night movie or eat dinner at a cheap hotel. We were cheapskates, always looking for sales, and two for one prices. We were also opposites in the musical selection. You liked rap, horrible stuff, full of twisted beats and lousy rhymes, and I was practically in love with punk and piano, now that I realize, it was just as horrible as rap.

You should be proud of me. I actually, finally, started listening to some of your old dusty CD's. They suck, but I can't help it. When I listen to them, it's like we're six months back, sitting there, blasting a mix CD that we both made, because I _hate _rap, and you _hate _punk. I never cried back when we were together, but now, I can't help but let a few tears squeeze out when I think about so long ago, it just seems right to feel a little sad, I mean, who wouldn't?

The radio is playing, and you guessed it, I have it on the "Alternative" station, because that's the only one that had both Rap and Punk, a mixture of crappy, lousy music. It's fizzing in and out, the voices mixing with gigantic drops of rain, smashing on my window. The storms were always bad here, and—just for a stupid cliché effect—they seem to get worse when I think too strongly about you.

"This is 102.2, your mix of things on the merry go round. Take a spin, and let's see what we have next!"

I know this song, I know it so well. You used to listen to this all the time, used to sing along, swinging my spatula around in the air, using it as a microphone. And we used to sing it together, dancing around like complete idiots, waving our arms, and moon walking like nobody's business. Truth be told, those were some of the happiest moments, even though I looked like I was going to kill you. And right now, on this radio, the lyrics scream at me, accuse me, because, even though I won't verbally admit it, they're too freaking true.

We were so happy, and yet so hateful. We were a couple, even though we really never said it out loud. We fought, we laughed, we cried, and, sometimes, I would like to think that the "like" passed on to love. Or maybe, it was all just wishful thinking, I don't know, maybe it's just me. I don't know about you, I didn't ever know.

_**'It's too late to apologize…'**_

That's right, right when I bring out the guts, when I bring out the courage, the opportunity is lost, gone, and it's too late. That one night, that night that we sat there, the snow was falling. Like tiny cotton swabs, or fluffed balls of frayed satin. It was a downpour.

_"Wow…it's really snowing! And it's only the beginning of December…"_

_"Yeah… Only the beginning…"_

We talked in between gulps of disgustingly lukewarm hot chocolate. We talked about the weather, about work, about ourselves, and about the future…

The future… Our future was a touchy subject…

I guess I could say it was forbidden. Especially since we apparently weren't supposed to be talking about that. So, I changed the future to the past. That was touchy too. And I realized was there anything that we could actually talk about without making someone pissed? We started talking about our childhood, where we graduated…All the boring yet important stuff.

We started talking about high school, the cliques, the classes, teachers… The "acquaintances" we had.

I never knew about Tansy. About how you kept going back to her, going back to some broken relationship. Going back five years ago, when you were just a teen, and she was just a kid, and everything was simple. Tansy…

You said you still talked to her, you said, you guys were friends. But I knew, somewhere down in there, you still…I don't know. Liked her, or felt something. I guess I was jealous, in fact, I **know **I was jealous.

_"I don't care about this 'Tansy', I care about you…"_

_"What is your problem?"_

_"My problem is this girl that you can't seem to let go… That's my freaking problem."_

_"Well I guess you're going to get used to the idea that I have another girl in my life."_

**'Another girl in my life'** When you said that…

It was like you really did have another girl in your life instead of me. It was like I was just there, just a replacement because Tansy wasn't there for you anymore. I was just another plastic game piece set down on the checker board. Useless, I wasn't worth anything.

And then, as the days passed, and as you spoke less and less to me, I realized that I really was nobody… Then, the fight happened, it was the ultimate wager, will they stay together, or will they break apart? And, that was the end. And a part of me, for just one second, was glad.

_"Ann, I'm leaving."_

_"Go ahead, I don't give a shit. Go look for Tansy."_

You sighed, wiped your eyes, and stumbled upstairs. Early the next morning, you slipped through our doors with a backpack and a small suitcase. And, silly me, stupid, me, I ran after. You set the luggage on the ground and looked at me. If I knew better, I would think that you were crying. Or, maybe almost close to crying.

One last chance, one last minute, and we could be here, listening to this crap song right now. Two less words from me, and, you could, might, be here, singing and dancing with that spatula.

_"Ann… I'm sorry… I-"_

_"Cliff… Fuck You…"_

And you looked at me, and didn't say anything. You just grabbed the suitcase, and walked away, onto that stupid floating boat, onto that stupid thing that would take you away. And I hate thinking that I could have changed that if I hadn't said those two words. Because I _know _I could have. But I didn't.

I finally took the courage to look through the backpack you had left sitting on the sand. There was a picture album. One said Anna; it was me, dancing with that spatula, singing to this song. Another one said Tansy; A blonde girl, bright blue eyes, smiling while hanging upside-down from a tree limb. She was wearing overall's, a white t-shirt. Her hair was in a blonde ponytail, weird…odd, she looked like me.

But, there's nothing I can do, it's too late to say sorry when I was the one who actually ended it. Not that I really want to apologize. You went back for her, and I'm here, waiting for nothing, I'm just waiting for this song to end, waiting for something.

_**'It's too late to apologize'**_


End file.
